


Despite the Sand in Your Eyes

by pendragonness



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Finn may be an upbeat lovely thing but lmao I have to dramatise him I guess, First Kiss, I'm all about slow burn, M/M, Puppy Love, Unrequited Crush, and why does everything I write have to end up dramatic and moody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonness/pseuds/pendragonness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scrambling into a stolen tie-fighter – anxiety, excitement, good. The rush of adrenaline when Poe barked commands – elation, good. The grin Poe flashed as he found a name for him, Finn, – warm, fresh, good. Everything was rushing into him at once and it made him feel like a child, clumsy and foolish and loud and over-excited, and so very alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of Stormtroopers - the pure, original clone versions - as quite robotic and unable to think or feel like humans, and so Finn's breaking away from training is like a form of rebirth, and he has to learn as he goes along how to deal with and understand regular emotions and situations. [Insert the charm and affection of Poe Dameron here]

FN-2187 had been part of the galaxies for over twenty years – barely, but that didn't change the fact – yet Finn had been truly aware of the world around him for less than a month. There was more information to take in than he could have ever expected; it all came in sensations of electricity, good and bad and stimulating and overwhelming, all at once.

The first battle – fear, bad. The loss of a Trooper with a face that reflected his – shock, bad. The slaughter of screaming villagers – sadness, pain, bad.

He could never say for sure if his following actions were intentional or if it was some sort of deep-rooted instinct, and yet the fact remained that because of him, the pilot prisoner walked free. Poe Dameron. It had a heroic ring, solid syllables and proud vowels. The man he helped free – who helped free him – fit the name perfectly.

Scrambling into a stolen tie-fighter – anxiety, excitement, good. The rush of adrenaline when Poe barked commands – elation, good. The grin Poe flashed as he found a name for him, Finn, – warm, fresh, good.

Everything was rushing into him at once and it made him feel like a child, clumsy and foolish and loud and over-excited, and so very alive.

-

How did other people, the normal people, handle such horrible things as he was feeling right now? Finn stumbled and crawled in scorching sand, the unpleasant pebbles working their way under his clothes and he didn't care, too busy shouting himself hoarse. The air sucked the water straight from his skin and his mouth and soon his words were feeble and his shouts fell to yelps.

“Poe?! Poe! Can you hear me? Poe, please!”

Finn fumbled over dunes that could have been mountains for ages longer than he had the strength for, until he found the wreckage. A black, burning, smelly heap of metal. He felt ill. Fear, sickness, pain, sadness – bad.

Eventually he held the jacket, still hot, a bit charred and smoking, but intact. His eyes roved the bright sand he was adjusting to. There was no pilot.

How did people deal with these emotions. How was he supposed to.

-

Rey was something altogether new. She was terrifying and demanding and strong and Finn was in love. Rey was smarter than he was, faster, and far more aggressive. She had every strength he failed with as a soldier, and she was a good person all the same. He was dazzled by the surety with which she did everything and he didn't want to let her out of his sight. _This_ was something he could fight for. Or try to, at least.

The lies were accidental, but easy. He wanted her to want him, to like him, to stay with him. With the Resistance? Sure. Of course. Does this mean we'll stay together?

Gosh she was lovely. Bright eyes and a personality made of sparks. He was fumbling and useless in comparison, he knew it, but he could try to be better. 

-

Finn had only been Finn for a brief moment of time and yet it felt like years, and he would never have given it up or done differently, he decided. Making the choice that allowed him to be Finn had now given him the company of the beautiful and bold Rey, as well as living legends such as Han Solo and his pet with a name that was difficult to remember.

There had been a lot of fear in the adventures so far, horrible fear that made him scream and shake, but it wasn't bad. Not all fear was bad, he was learning. Emotions weren't straight forward good or bad, not anymore. And he felt so much.

He had wanted to run, for a while; he didn't want to suffer, he didn't want to die, and he didn't want anything to happen to Rey either. But Rey was, again, stronger than he was and she knew how to push forward. She accepted that he had lied to her, that he was a Stormtrooper, and she still believed in him. He wished he could do the same. 

And then, in the midst of explosions of violence and fear, there came anger, as Finn saw his friend, his dear Rey, carried into one of the First Order's ships. He screamed, bellowed her name, and ran. His body ached with the intensity of his emotions but it didn't matter. He had fallen short again, and Rey was gone, and he was so afraid.

-

Then, by some miracle in this dark time, Poe Dameron came crashing back into his life, with all the flash and zing that a hero was supposed to have, and Finn felt like an excitable child again.

He wasn't sure if he found Poe or Poe found him but Finn knew this was his first real experience of affection as they embraced, both quivering with the surprise at seeing one another alive. Poe watched him talk with a smile in his eyes, and laughed and made him laugh, and forget, for a time, the concern about Rey. The pilot was still a little rugged from the recent crash but he was delightfully whole and solid - he jumped on Finn again, hugging him warmly, and then slapping at the young man's shoulder.

"You do that jacket a damn better service than I ever did, buddy. You, Han Solo, and Chewbacca taking on an entire regiment of Stormtroopers? You're lucky you survived to be a headline."

Finn laughed. "You think someone's out there pitching my story already, huh?"

Poe's face fell faux-serious, his wide eyes earnest. "Oh absolutely. The defect Stormtrooper taking on the First Order with just a couple blasters? Easy sell."

"As long as they leave out the part where you came and rescued us all from being handed straight to Kylo-Ren," Finn interjected, and then hesitated. His face slowly fell.

"Buddy?" Poe asked, his bravado quieting. "Finn, what's wrong?"

"Rey," Finn answered, and then realized the pilot wouldn't understand. "My- my friend. I met her on Jakku, after the crash. She..Ren took her."

"Well we'll find her, Finn, don't you worry about that. Nothing bad will happen to her." Poe forced a small smile, more closed-off now, his mood less intense than it had been just moments before. He watched his friend for a moment, studied the worry on Finn's young face. "What's your friend like?"

"She's...amazing," Finn sighed, his mouth quirking wistfully. Poe's eyes twitched. "She can fight and fly and she always thinks of everything, and seems to _know_ everything.. You know, she can talk to droids _and_ Chewbacca? I mean," The kid grinned, fondly thinking of all the ways he adored Rey. "I've never met anyone like her before. She's special."

"Yes but just how many people have you known that weren't Troopers, pal?" Poe teased, suddenly desperate to clear up the moment, "Sounds like I'll be hearing stories of you two and your adventures for the next few weeks, huh? And here I thought our first time together was going to be something for you to remember. Guess I've been outdone by a girl."

A passing officer made a sound like a surprised laugh that triggered a cough. Poe glanced after them for a moment, his mouth twisting, and then flashed an appropriately assuring grin at Finn.

Finn smiled, noticing nothing, holding Poe's warm, patient gaze. He felt that as long as he had Rey and Poe in his life, he'd never be alone again.

-

If a childhood raised under the reign of the First Order should have taught Finn anything, it should have taught him that life was not within his sole control, and neither fair nor particularly kind. Not in his lifetime. Not when there were battles to fight.

And so, in this unkind and unfair and unpredictable world, he was, in fact, alone again.

He woke in ragged, hazy disarray, blinking with difficulty at the pale room around him. He lay on his side, facing the main door and an empty chair. Machines beeped and whirred behind him. The resounding ache-mingled-with-numbness that encompassed most of his conscious body told him he was hospitalized. The searing, lightning-bolt agony of a lightsaber came flooding back into his mind.

Finn swallowed, trembled. His eyes flicked around the room desperately now, but it was empty. He was afraid and unsure and confused and alone. Bad.

What had happened to him? Why couldn't he move from this awkward position? Did Rey get away okay? Did he help, or was he in the way again? How much time had passed? Where was anyone?

“Hello?” Finn choked the word out, his mouth unsteady and his chest thick with drugs and emotion. He swallowed and felt it in his tingling spine. “Hello?” Nothing.

Panic threatened to creep up his throat and strangle him from the inside – a familiar feeling that he had hoped to have left behind when he shed the Stormtrooper uniform. But tossing aside a uniform hadn't tossed aside his own weakness, it seemed.

Finn lay in the med ward, alone in the silence, which lay like a discreet mist jumbled only by the few painful sniffles the young man allowed himself. He closed his eyes against his childish tears, willed himself to take deep breaths even if they ached, and insisted that this was not permanent, familiar faces would be back, he needed to calm down.

But so often he had woken alone and in discomfort, with no expectation of seeing any friendly face, and old habits die hard.

-

The next time Finn awoke – just a couple hours later – the first and only thing he noticed was how close Poe was to him. There was barely a foot of breathing space between where he lay and the other man sat, perched on the very edge of a chair, and as soon as Finn's dark eyes blinked open, Poe leaned even closer. He sucked in a breath of hope and alarm, one hand grabbing Finn's, the other palm falling to cradle the side of Finn's neck. Poe fidgeted, inhaling again without having exhaled once, and then noticed his touches and drew back one hand, the other one still locked in Finn's grasp.

“Poe,” Finn said the name with a smile, his eyes crinkling brightly and suddenly he didn't look like he had a care in the world. He had no idea that Poe had noticed lines of distress on his sleeping face in the recent hours, a look that had brought the weight of fear ever heavier on the pilot's shoulders.

“Finn- my god, buddy, you're awake,” Poe grinned and shifted again, hoping the movement would hide any focus on his face, where his eyes threatened to shine. He swallowed. “How do you feel?”

“It's really not so bad. You didn't see but I was doing high-kicks earlier,” Finn smirked, struggling to keep the humor up. Poe's mouth quirked but his eyes didn't catch it.

“I've been- I've...we were all worried for a while there,” Poe started.

Finn's only response was a timid half-smile. He took a breath. “Where were you?”

Poe's dark brows dipped in confusion. Finn shifted his head, his neck a little sore. “I _did_ wake up earlier, just for a minute. No one was here. I...I didn't know what was going on.”

Poe looked stricken, in a way Finn couldn't understand. He vaguely wondered if the angle he was laying at was distorting the pilot's expression.

Poe leaned close again, his enrapturing gaze deep and earnest, his fingers tightening around Finn's palm. “I only stepped out for a few minutes, just to..to see the sky and, and then I had to talk to Rey-”

“Rey's here?” Finn picked up his head, just slightly. “Is she here?”

A heartbeat's pause, and then Poe delicately slipped his hand out of Finn's and leaned back to give them appropriate breathing space again.

“No, uh, she..she left, Finn.”

“Left? To go where?”

Poe sighed, as if he dreaded where this conversation would go. “To find Luke Skywalker.”

The silence that followed felt hours long. Finn was a little offended, feeling mildly unimportant, but mostly confused. He tried to start a sentence a half dozen times and failed.

“Did she say anything, before she left?” He finally asked. Poe knew what he meant.

“Rey was here for a long time, Finn. She sat right here and looked after you. She's sorry she didn't stay until you woke up - she is,” Poe assured the injured man, “but any delay is incredibly dangerous right now. She had faith you'd be okay.”

Finn, in a rare moment, had nothing to say.

-


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I have no idea what became of this story but here we go

Never had he imagined such a messy escape, from anything. All the same this really wasn't the place to be complaining – if a defect Stormtrooper wanted to escape the holds of the First Order with him, why not, please let's go, immediately. And if Poe Dameron had to take charge of his own aided escape, no one was surprised. Poe always took charge – or rather, he was given the duty of being in charge. Something about the way he carried himself, perhaps, convinced others to relinquish responsibility onto to him. He had learned to handle it.

Now there was this kid, the erratic Trooper that had found free will, and they were fumbling together in the cock pit of a tie-fighter. Poe grinned to himself as his gaze darted frantically over the controls. Flying a tie-fighter! Now this would make a good story. The small ship lurched from a blaster impact; well, it would make a good story if they got out of the hanger first.

A couple more hiccups, and then Poe was whooping with the elation that came from hurling through space at an alarming speed, direction and stability all at his fingertips. This was his world.

“Hey, buddy, you got a name?” He turned his ear toward the seat behind him, the awkward position only allowing a side-eye view of his companion.

“FN-2187.”

“F-..what?” He glanced behind again. The kid was dismissive, shrugging.

“That's the only name they ever gave me.”

“Well I'm not usin' it. FN, huh. Finn- I'm gonna call you Finn, okay?”

He could hear the grin in his partner's voice, the giddiness at having a name. Poe smiled to himself and shook the hair and sweat out of his eyes. The kid made him laugh, made him feel light and helped him forget the pain still wringing through his body, and suddenly he was all the more grateful for this renegade ex-Trooper.

The stolen tie-fighter was slammed by canon fire now, and Poe swore. He heard Finn start to panic and chatter. The nervous voice made him smile, just a little, and he dipped and whirled the craft in ridiculous patterns.

Two attacking fighters swerved unsteadily, trying to follow, and smashed into each other instead. Finn cheered and whooped, and found the steadiness to shoot down another approaching enemy craft.

“Nice job, Finn,” Finn hollered again, ecstatic, and Poe echoed it back to him.

Their desperate escape had turned enthusiastic, and Poe laughed with the elation of it. He hadn't had this much fun on such a serious mission since he could remember.

And then a fatal hit took down the tie-fighter, and sent the pilot and his ex-Trooper hurtling to Jakku's surface.

 

-

 

When Poe Dameron woke up, it was dark – but still too warm. He found himself tangled in his escape shute, and the fabric was heavy and complicated enough to make him panic, just for a moment. Only once free and standing – which hurt, everything hurt after a dozen hours of various torture and interrogation – did he notice the darkness. The emptiness. The fact he was alone.

Poe blinked, his eyes stinging with sweat or blood, by now he wasn't sure. His mouth tasted like both.

He stumbled forward – something had happened to his left ankle in the crash. His shoulder ached more than he remembered too. And then there was the deeper pain, the residue left within him from Ren's torture. It made breathing and thinking hurt.

“Finn?” He called, his voice unsteady. There was nothing near him, he could tell, even if he couldn't see. “Finn? Buddy?”

Poe Dameron was on his own, and he could handle that – but could Finn handle the same? And what could Poe do either way?

He swallowed, and began to walk.

 

-

 

Seeing BB-8 again was a delight, undoubtedly, but the surprise at seeing Finn, alive and as eager as he remembered, was enough to send Poe running.

He heard Finn call his name and his chest felt light, releasing laughter as they embraced. He grasped tightly, but briefly, wanting to see his ex-Trooper clearly. Finn looked good, better than Poe probably did. Bright and warm and brimming with his endless experiences. Poe felt twenty years older and was sure he looked it.

But then there was his jacket-

No, Finn's jacket now. Whereas Poe had always felt the bomber jacket gave him an appealingly rugged edge, somehow it cleaned up Finn, made him sharper and smarter instead. It did suit him.

And Finn had instinctively picked up the charred jacket and saved it, and then worn it as his own. Why would he-? Poe wondered if it still smelt like the gas and oil from his X-wing and the smoke of his cigarras, or if the fire from the crash had erased him completely.

 

-

 

General Organa and her surrounding Resistance fighters organized a futile plan of attack on the Starkiller base, Finn volunteering himself up to help disable the shields of the base, so that Poe and his fleet could take out the heart of the reactor. Poe's eyes were bright when Finn offered his help; the kid had come far from fumbling his way beyond anything other than a blaster. And the odds of this mission were not for the faint-hearted. Poe himself was ignoring the shakier side of his emotions at the moment.

Finn noticed his gaze, through the blue of the projected map between them, and his face crinkled in a quick, sure smile. Poe wanted to laugh. He noticed his jacket again and how much older it made Finn seem.

Then Finn dropped the connection, his attention won instead by General Organa, who was beginning to walk away with one of her counsellors.

“General!” Finn darted after her.

“Ma'am, Miss Organa, General-” Finn stuttered through the start of his sentence as he had a dozen times before and Poe pressed his lips together to stop the dumb grin he felt creeping. “Have you heard anything about Rey?”

The General's eyes softened sympathetically; Poe's wavered self-consciously. Right, Rey. He watched Finn and the General talk for a moment, studied the urgent movements of the young man, the desperate affection in his voice.

Poe swallowed and glanced around consciously, as though he had said something embarrassing aloud and someone might be snickering at him from a corner. But no one paid any attention to the utterly unspecial conversation he'd been intent on.

Finn wasn't aware of Poe's presence anymore, of course he wasn't, he had his friend to worry about, the girl, the girl his age, who he had run around most of the galaxy with. That was fine. Of course.

Poe slipped out of the room. He caught the fond gaze of a young female chemist on his way and flashed a slight grin – just the right grin, he knew, and she blushed violently and ducked her head.

It didn't make him feel better.

Once outside, he cast a quick glance around to make sure he had some space, then lit up one of his few remaining cigarras. Poe closed his eyes as he breathed in, letting the warm, heady smoke flush out the less pleasant feelings at that moment. He ran his tongue over a fleck of tabac on the inside of his lip. The bitterness came as a relief.

 

-

The exhale was shaky, a jagged and interrupted stream of grey smoke against the clear black sky. Poe swallowed as he stared up into the vast canopy of glittering stars and planets. The cigarra in his fingers trembled.

He had to pull himself together.

 _But Finn_. But Finn? Finn was not his responsibility. Finn was no one's responsibility, the kid could take care of himself, plenty.

But Finn was in critical condition for the third day straight, and hadn't woken since. And Poe was sick and anxious and a mess. Even BB-8 had decided to give him space.

And then, just a few minutes earlier, he'd had the desperate need to breathe and feel fresh air and see the sky. It was easy to pretend he didn't get stir-crazy at being grounded, for a little while, a very little while – but three days was pushing it. Not to be in the air even once...it was suffocating.

Poe pulled at the cigarra again, felt the heat of the embers on his fingers as it died down. Everything was suffocating him right now.

“Poe?”

He turned and found Rey watching him. Her gaze was focused, she was reading something on him, something in the way he held himself, the way he fidgeted, the look on his face. He didn't want to know.

“Just needed some air,” he explained.

Rey looked at the sky for a moment. He tapped discreetly at the cigarra, ashes falling against his trouser leg.

“I'm leaving,” Rey finally said. “I'm going to find Luke Skywalker. I have to.”

“Right now?”

Rey knew what he meant and she looked at the ground, regretting the choice she had already made. “Finn's stable now. He'll be okay. And I...I can't wait. The First Order won't be down for long.”

“Okay.”

Rey looked at him sharply, disapproving of his lack of contribution. Poe didn't move.

“I can't say how grateful I am for what Finn did. He never should have-..he's incredible. When he wakes up, I'll be back, and I'll have Skywalker.”

Poe nodded. He remembered Finn being delivered after the battle was won, just a limp body on the med stretcher, and he chased after it as Rey held back, already feeling the burden of her next move. He understood and he sympathized. But he also knew that she could not predict how Finn would feel when he woke up.

“Good luck, Rey,” He finally offered, and his voice was kind.

She smiled, just faintly, and nodded, then turned away.

Her footsteps faded into the darkness as the last scrap of the forgotten cigarra burned Poe's fingertips, and he let it. 


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry - I started university again before I could finish the chapter, and then the weeks got away from me as I spent most of my time writing on entirely different subjects than gay space boys. I actually had a really difficult time getting into the right headspace for it but I worried it'll never be done if I don't just push through, so here's something.. My apologies for the mess this quick story became, you all deserve better, but thank you for reading :)

Finn woke again to find Poe already in the room, as was common, but asleep, and looking like hell. The pilot was still in his orange flying suit, the torso unzipped and falling sloppily open, his hair flattened from the helmet but messy, curls loose around his temples and above one brow. His face, however, was smooth and utterly blank, his lips slightly parted as he breathed.

Finn watched the gentle rise and fall of Poe's chest with a faint smile. The energetic pilot had barely left his side, Finn knew, and he had noticed when the unchanging medical room started to wear on his friend and had given Poe leave, which was taken gratefully, although hesitantly. 

Finn vaguely recalled Poe discussing flying drills with one of his fleet members the day before. He must've made it in from flying and immediately come to see Finn, then crashed while waiting. 

His whole body felt alight at the thought of Poe Dameron, all smooth smiles and laughs and charisma and kindness, fretting at his bedside for days, falling asleep in the chair near him. Finn would have been wholly touched at anyone doing that for him, really, but the fact it was Poe – the first friend he'd ever made, and who he couldn't shake – felt like a lot more.

Finn's first-time love for Rey had faded to close friendship in light of recent events – namely, the realization she was not going to understand his stares and fumbling come-ons, let alone return them, and he had convinced himself to love her quietly and simply. That was okay; he knew she loved him too, in her own way, and he was just happy to have her in his life.

Then there was this rebel pilot. The poster-boy hero of many persons fantasies – or so Finn imagined. His experience of couples and love and the whole idea was excruciatingly limited; all he knew was Poe felt like a warm piece inside him, Poe made him breathe easier and the ground more stable, and Finn always missed him.

But Finn was a kid in comparison to the sleeping hero, and he felt very small and very foolish.

Poe grunted, breaking the silence, and Finn shifted to attention, expecting the other man to wake. 

But Poe wasn't waking up – his shoulder spasmed, in a dream, and now the lines were back in his face, deep, and unhappy. His breaths came heavier and his lips pulled back in a grimace, then as if a switch had been flicked, the expression fell and he looked peaceful again. One of his hands flexed, at the same time he made a soft sound like a whimper – it was pained and desperate, and Finn felt as if he had stepped into the midst of a private scene. 

“Poe,” he said, hoping to interrupt his friend's unpleasant dreaming. The man's shoulder spasmed again, his hand flexed. “Poe, hey!” The raised volume broke the pilot's sleep and he lurched awake, eyes disoriented for only a moment before focusing on Finn.

“Finn, buddy, hey-” Poe stood up slowly, stiff from sleeping in a fairly awful chair, and made his way to the bed. “How you doing?”

“I'm fine,” Finn responded briskly, his eyes intent on Poe, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm good, why?”

Finn hesitated. “You...you didn't seem to be sleeping very well.”

Poe took a moment before responding, digging his palm into his eyes first. “Oh, uh, yeah well. It happens. Thanks though.” He tossed Finn a tired, strained smile. Finn smiled carefully in return “How's your shoulder, by the way?” Poe welcomed a chance to change the subject. 

“Good,” Finn replied, looking at his arm as best he could, where Kylo's saber has gotten him. “Tingles sometimes, and it's a little stiff, but the pain's gone. Most of my pain's gone everywhere.”

“Yeah?” The pilot's grin was slow and huge and ridiculous. His eyes shined. “That's great, buddy. Really great.”

Finn grew embarrassed under such a look. “Listen, Poe, thanks for being here so much. You really don't need to be, but-”

“No, no, don't give me this, Finn. It's not a matter of whether or not I need to be here – but I want to be. Where else would I be, if I wasn't with you?”

He smiled softer now, his gaze warm and sure. His chest felt thick with words that threatened to choke him. Finn gazed up at him with something like marvel and admiration in return. “Finn, there's something-”

A droid entered and saved Poe from the sentence he had been prepared to fumble through. It was one of the medical ward's nurse droids, and after scanning Finn briefly, it demanded he stand.

“Your current state must be measured to determine progress and any further work that must be done. Please stand.”

Poe stepped forward, instinctively, and the droid swiveled sharply to face him.

“Do not assist,” it demanded, and Poe stepped back to his place with a palm raised in submission.

Finn chuckled at the scolding, before focusing on his task at hand. He swallowed, refusing to look at Poe, whose worried gaze felt like fire. 

Finn used his hands to push himself into a straighter sitting position, then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, his hips turned, and his legs slid carefully over the edge of the small bed. Before long, his feet dangled above the floor. He risked a glance at Poe; the man was too concerned by the ground and whether or not Finn would touch it. Finn felt it was a challenge, as though he needed to prove to Poe that he was fine, and he could handle this. 

Another deep breath, brace yourself – and his body slid off the bed, his feet landing on the cool floor, and the pressure of his bodyweight sent a slight sting up his spine. But he was okay. And as he saw Poe fidget in the corner of his eye, he was determined to do as the droid instructed.

“Please walk.”

Finn glanced around – the only place in the small room for him to walk was from his place by the bed, to where Poe stood, six or seven feet away. Their eyes met. Finn wondered if he looked as on-edge as Poe did.  
And then one careful step, his weight seeming heavy on the single foot – but then the other foot, and it evened out. His muscles felt like they were going to creak and whine from lack of use and excessive bed-rest, but the rest of him felt steady and impatient. After the first two steps the movement came easily, and Finn walked stiffly toward his companion.

He stopped, toe-to-toe with Poe, and they stared at each other for several long breaths, nearly eye-level. The corner of Poe's mouth twitched and Finn reflected it.

“Hey,” Finn's voice was breathy - not from any exertion from walking.

Poe swallowed, still holding the gaze. “Hey.”

“Assessment satisfactory,” the droid interrupted the moment, making Finn jump visibly and causing Poe to finally blink – which he did, rapidly. “Please return to your bed until the next exam in three point five hours.”

The little machine whirred away.

“How do ya feel?” Poe worried about another moment of silence.

“Good. Very good, actually. I bet I can do more – wanna see?”

Finn grinned and Poe struggled not to show his nerves. “No- just, just walk some more. If you want.”

Without replying, Finn turned and walked back to the bed, his movements a little faster and certainly smoother. At the bedside again, he spun on his heel, flashy, and his smile bright and cocky. 

“I can't believe it, this is easy! I feel just fine. I must be healed by now – they gotta let me go soon, huh? Then I can actually go and DO things, be useful-”

“Easy, pal,” Poe interrupted, “Give it a little bit. Do some more walking first. Baby-steps.”

Finn made a face at the term, but obeyed, and walked steadily toward Poe again. He grinned when they came nearly nose-to-nose, then swiveled and made for the door to the room. At the doorway, he skipped a little and turned back to the bed, making himself a complex loop to walk through in the room. His pace was quicker, a little hop in his step, his excitement at being upright again overwhelming. 

Finn strode proudly to the bedside, and then to Poe, and then back to the bed, swinging his arms exaggeratedly. He looked ridiculous and he knew it, and he enjoyed the way Poe's eyes squinted when he laughed hard. Finn swiveled again – and slipped. His back seized unpleasantly when his body jolted and the joke was dropped as Finn stiffened. Poe darted forward, his stern features falling into attentiveness once more.

“Damn it, Finn,” Poe muttered, but the words held no bite - they were hardly even chiding. They sounded far too worried for Finn to pay any attention to them.

The pilot braced the younger man upright, holding him around the waist, his shoulders beneath the boy's arm, and Finn was delicately deposited back on his medical cot. 

Poe let go of Finn, checked he was sitting securely, and then glanced up, noting the quiet. He froze, Finn's face scarcely more than a couple inches from his. The younger man's expression didn't make any sense to Poe; he couldn't read it. He was too busy trying to fix whatever his face might have been showing. His nerves felt like they were on fire.

He dropped Finn's stare and gave the boy some space again.

Finn swallowed and shifted, feeling as though he could breathe again once the older man stepped away. Not that he was concerned with breathing.

Silence fell between them, heavy and awkward and brimming with possibilities. 

Finn stared at a space by the floor, finding himself burdened once more with an all-too-familiar sensation: Fear. Bad. 

He swallowed; his mouth dry and unpleasant. "You know, sometimes, I'm still not sure where I'm supposed to be.” Poe watched as he spoke, arms folded across his chest, a bit macho, but the softness in his face deceived him. “I was never simple enough to be a Stormtrooper – I spent most of my time pretending I understood, pretending I felt the same, and hoped one day it would be true. No one else was like me, so it didn't make sense that I was the only one. It was terrifying. But here, with the Resistance – I'm too afraid to be part of this. I'm-” He stopped, swallowing again. “I'm too weak to be a hero.”

There was a strange, unexpected silence after the young man's words – he risked a glance up, having expected Poe to jump after him with some sort of chastising remark. The lack of contradiction made him feel so much worse instead. 

Poe was staring at him with distant, sad eyes, and Finn couldn't hold the look for long. He ducked away, embarrassed.

“Finn,” Poe's voice was a breathy sigh, “You're not weak, Finn. How could you be weak and be here? You nearly got yourself killed, trying to defend Rey. You saved her life.” His voice was steadier now, still gentle. “You fought an immensely dangerous sith, because you were protecting your friend, and you survived. Finn you're so much more brave than anyone else I've met-”

Finn is jolted to attention as Poe suddenly embraces him, his emotions running over his voice, into his entire being. “Don't ever say you're weak, buddy,” Poe whispered, holding tight. “It takes a lot of strength to make sacrifices and you've sacrificed so much, and I'm so glad you're here. You're..you're supposed to be here.”

Finn hugs him back, almost numbed by Poe's intensity, but also filled with a warmth like only Rey has caused in him before.

“Poe,” Finn mumbled clumsily, “I- with you, I-”

“Shh,” Poe responded, “just-” The pilot squeezed him closer for a moment and then kissed quickly at his cheek, open and reassuring - and then a beat, and his head turned a little more and he kissed Finn straight on the mouth. 

It was firm and wholesome and sure – he knew what he meant and he wanted Finn to know it too. Poe kissed deep, with his eyes closed, but Finn kept his open, studying the proximity of the other man's intense features: the long line of his nose, the details around his eyes and dark lashes, the set of his brows. 

The kiss was dropped after a long breath, and yet Poe stayed near, the two men still embracing; Poe was all heavy eyes and parted lips and statuesque features to Finn. 

“Sorry-”

The word was breathed in to Finn's mouth; he could nearly taste it. His head spun. His body tingled. He wanted the sensation of Poe's mouth back, it was new and it was refreshing and exhilarating and beautiful, Poe was beautiful-

The older man swallowed and leaned away, gaining his bearings. He even had the gall to blush. “Sorry,” he said again, more clearly, “That was...a little uncalled for.”

“I'm not complaining.” The words left Finn's mouth before he could filter them, and he winced. Bad time for a joke. But Poe smiled and actually looked relieved, although still embarrassed.

“I should've asked first,” he said, scratching at the back of his head. “I mean I don't even really know if you-..well, if you're interested in...” He fumbled a little. “..in..me. Because of Rey. I know, I know you're close with her. You care for her a lot – and she cares for you. And I..I shouldn't get in the middle of that-” 

Poe was babbling now, clumsy and far past losing his cool. Finn struggled to hide a grin; he'd never seen the pilot act so childish and nervous and normal. It was a relief.

“I do care about Rey – a lot,” Finn finally relieved Poe of speaking, “But she...she has other goals. And I can love her anyway. I'm alright with that – there's enough going on out there to worry myself with right now.” He tried for another joke, smiling crookedly, hating it immediately.

Poe watched him fondly, adoringly. And a little sadly.

“You're right, there is a lot going on. Maybe this... This is bad timing, actually. A bad idea.”

Unsteady silence, and Finn forced himself to handle this carefully – to actually think things through, for once.

They both realize Poe is right. Their world is being launched into war-stricken chaos as they speak. It couldn't be a worse time to try for some sort of...something.

“It is. A bad idea.” Finn agrees numbly. He stares at the floor again. His back is starting to properly hurt.

Poe watches the understanding grow on Finn's face, followed by bitter – but unsurprised – disappointment. And he aches. Despite all the things he can have, he wants this kid in his life more than any of them. 

He reaches out and grasps at the ex-trooper, pulling him close for an apologetic embrace. Finn clings to him just like he'd hoped for. 

Unknown to each other, they both close their eyes, holding the moment, holding each other. Both content and comfortable for the first time in a long while.

Poe pulls back and looks direct into Finn's dark eyes and smiles, wistfully. He holds the young man's face between his hands and presses a careful kiss against his forehead.

Finn pushes himself up, forcing himself to take action in this scene too, and he kisses Poe back, straight on the mouth. Poe takes it happily, enthusiastically, even. Their mouths move contentedly if a little sloppily, Finn nervous, Poe anxious. 

Poe surges forward, shifting Finn to sit on the edge of the medical cot, and the pilot stands between his legs, their hips close, arms around one another. Finn's hands have accidentally started running through Poe's hair and now they can't seem to let the curls go. Poe clings to the younger man's chest, pulling the shirt of his med pajamas tight.

When they both decide they need air and break, breathing against one another, Poe nuzzles against Finn warmly, easily. Finn swallows – he is overrun with sensations, emotions, he doesn't have names for them anymore. He's just as jittery and overwhelmed as when he first met the pilot, that day he finally decided to do something for himself. And he's never truly looked back - he never will now.

Poe closes his eyes, resting his head and his body against the other man, still holding on, embracing and embraced. He's so tired, he has been so tired for weeks and months and years, if he really thinks about it – but mostly he pretends not to – think about it, that is. He is tired into and through his bones and things will only get worse before they get better, he knows this, but he also knows right now, they seem better already.


End file.
